


Suprendre

by dalliancee



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalliancee/pseuds/dalliancee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames likes to surprise Arthur — and he likes where it takes them throughout their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suprendre

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished a fic, oh my god. I hope you guys like this - I'm still quite worried over this piece, to be very honest, I think there's still mistakes in it that I can't catch no matter how many times I proof-read it so I'm really, really sorry if you find any odd placing or grammar in it.
> 
> Also, if you guys prefer to read it in LJ, you can do so over [here](http://dalliancee.livejournal.com/8154.html).

 

 

 

 

**i.**

 

Arthur's a man of control and sequence. He doesn't like unpredictability, and he doesn't enjoy surprises ("No, Eames, no. I'm serious, no party poppers as you jump out of a dark corner - I _will_ shoot you, birthday or not.").

 

That was an effective threat, with Eames dumping all the party poppers into the trash the next second - but party poppers aside, Eames is starting to see that Arthur actually likes it, secretly, whenever he springs something unexpected into his boyfriend's usual routine no matter how little it seems. 

 

Eames probably shouldn't try again, but he does anyway. 

 

 

 

 

**ii.**

 

 

"Jesus-"

 

"Eames, god, what on earth was that? I could've shot you in the head-"

 

"You truly, are a man of wonder, darling. You have your gun with you in the shower? My, my. You never fail to impress me-"

 

"Eames!" Arthur shushes, almost with a sense of urgency as he shifts the safety of his glock back on before putting it onto the soap holder. "What are you doing here? Is someone in the house? Wait, do I have to-"

 

Eames holds himself back from snickering as he stops Arthur from reaching out for his gun yet again (this is exactly why Eames is enjoying this so much) and conveniently makes use of the fact that he now has his boyfriend's wrist in his grip to press it against the wall.

 

"… Eames," Arthur begins again, and by the look in his eyes Eames knows his boyfriend's beginning to understand why he is here. "Seriously?"

 

"Of course, Arthur."

 

He hasn't been with Arthur for long to understand him as well as an open book, but Eames knows a number of things that others don't. Arthur's not a morning-person, but he enjoys the classic coffee and toast for breakfast. Arthur does not favor the idea of wandering, but he likes to take a long stroll in the night when it’s cooling. 

 

Arthur's favorite place to make love in is definitely the bed, where it feels the most intimate and comfortable but — Eames is about to introduce him to more options. 

 

"Right here," Eames says as he dips closer to press a kiss against the curve of Arthur's shoulder. "Right now."

 

 

 

 

**iii.**

 

 

Eames can’t help the look on his face the second his phone buzzes with an alert for an incoming call by Arthur. He has been half-expecting this call for hours, ever since Arthur left their place with a duffel bag packed for two nights. 

 

“I don’t understand, Eames.” The genuine confusion that’s mixed with frustration in Arthur’s voice is enough to crack a wide smile on Eames’ lips. This is almost better than Arthur’s usual greeting which consists of the softest ‘hey’ that always trickles warmth within Eames. “Why on Earth did you — god, Eames.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t feign ignorance with me, Eames-“

 

Eames bites back an amused laughter.

 

The tone that Arthur’s using sounds like frustration, but Eames knows better. His boyfriend’s flustered, very flustered and Eames wishes he has gone with him in the first place to Cobb’s place.

 

If Arthur sounds so endearing already, Eames can’t imagine how his reaction will look like.

 

(Eames is going to hell, he knows.)

 

“Did you like them? Peonies are good.”

 

“What’s really good will be something I can use to hit the back of your head with right now.”

 

Eames imagines Arthur running his fingers through the soft petals of the peonies he just received as he talks on the phone with him. Eames smiles, yet again. 

 

“C’mon, darling. You said you liked peonies the last time we saw them-”

 

“Cobb has been sending me looks for the past fifty minutes, Eames.” Arthur grumbles and that’s when Eames can’t hold an amused snicker back in anymore. The mental image of Cobb giving Arthur looks (he’s probably half-amused, yet half-horrified) is just far too pleasing. “Oh, so you think this is funny, you little shit? I didn’t go to Cobb’s for some random house visiting, Eames! I went there to work, and you sent flowers to my work place? I swear, when I get back, you better be wearing a bulletproof vest _or else_.”

 

“Such a sweetheart as always, Arthur.” Eames coos after, intentionally before he laughs when he hears Arthur sighing loudly through the line. “You’re just over at Cobb’s for consultations anyway, darling, it’s needless to think of it so serious-“

 

And right there, Eames hears his own mistake in slow motion. 

 

(He knocks his fist against his forehead.)

 

“Needless?” Eames swears he can see Arthur narrowing his eyebrows that very instant. Of course it’s necessary, Arthur’s _working_! Everything should be necessary and isn’t needless because Arthur the point man is never shabby at his work and how _dare_ Eames — god, someone help Eames before he gets verbally murdered through this phone call. “This is a highly professional-“

 

“Sweet dreams, darling.” Eames cuts through hastily. “Tell Cobb I said hi-“

 

Arthur snorts.

 

“How about you come over here and tell him that yourself? I still have some needless serious pondering to do.”

 

Eames groans when the phone beeps to an end. 

 

 

 

**iv.**

 

 

 

But his greeting did get to Cobb anyway, late evening after their phone call as he stands right there, at the front porch of the former extractor’s house. 

 

(Getting a flight to anywhere has become so much easier ever since they met Saito.)

 

“Hello there,” Eames greets.

 

“What the fuck,” Cobb first says before he hears Arthur repeating the exact same words, somewhere inside the house where Eames can’t see.

 

 

 

(This is Eames’ favorite surprise, ever. He swears.)

 

 

**v.**

 

 

Cobb doesn’t even bother giving looks anymore. He lets the preparation of lunch occupies both his mind and schedule instead as he coops himself up in the kitchen, and left his children who’s roaming across the backyard under the care of Arthur, and Eames now that he’s here too.

 

“How’s the peaceful apple-pie life going for him?” Eames asks as he takes a quick glance at where the house is, before letting himself drink in the sight of Arthur who’s holding a sleepy James in his arms. The way Arthur’s petting the back of James’ head is done gingerly; his boyfriend obviously has little experience around kids, but he also obviously likes the presence of them. 

 

Or maybe it’s just Phillipa and James only, in this case since Eames can still recall the horrified expression on Arthur’s face when their neighbour back in London made him carry her baby daughter for awhile as she looked for her keys. 

 

_“Save me,” Arthur mouthed to an unsympathetic Eames who went back to putting his shoes on._

 

Eames snickers at the memory.

 

“He’s doing good, of course. He’s always going to be happy as long as his children are with him,” Arthur speaks softly, as if he’s afraid to wake James up and keeps his vision fixed at Phillipa who’s building a snowman near the fence. “This is what he has always wanted.”

 

Eames briefly recalls the sight of Cobb’s wide smile as he kisses the foreheads of his children.

 

“He’s literally living his dream in reality, huh?”

 

Arthur hums in response and gives a quick peek at James, who has fallen fast asleep before he suddenly stills. Eames knows immediately then; he knows that look from everywhere and is honestly, so proud of himself when he’s not even the slightest bit of surprised the next second Arthur turns to look at him with a frown.

 

“What are you doing here, Mr Eames?”

 

“You told me to tell him hi myself-“

 

“So you did?”

 

“So I did, of course—!”

 

“Jesus fucking christ.” Arthur swears, and Eames’ laughter is immediate when he sees his boyfriend’s shoulders jerk up as he remembers James is still in his arms — thank god the boy’s still asleep. If he picked anything up, Eames doesn’t think Cobb’s going to let Arthur walk out of here alive. “It’s a seven-hour flight here, Eames.”

 

Eames thinks of Saito briefly before he shrugs. 

 

“What for?” Arthur presses and looks worried all of a sudden. “Did something happen?”

 

“Of course not,” He reassures before giving all of the reasons in his head a quick thought. Arthur will most probably bury him in Cobb’s backyard if he told him that ‘ _nah, this is all just to surprise you because I like to see you being surprised when the aftermath doesn’t involve you pointing a gun at me_ ’. 

 

Or maybe Arthur won’t, but Eames does want to keep all of these under wraps for a little while more. 

 

“It’s just… fun?” 

 

Arthur raises an eyebrow and just stares at him.

 

“Well—“

 

Eames finds his words being cut off the next instant as a snowball lands recklessly in the middle of both of them, poorly aimed. Their visions shift to find Phillipa immediately, and Eames cringes when he spots her only after he’s pelted with snow. Her victorious laughter is soon joined by Arthur’s amused chuckle, and it’s quick before James stirs awake with joy to see that a snowball fight is ready at his return.

 

Eames doesn’t know why, but he becomes the common enemy the next second (even Arthur begins to fling snow at him) and suddenly he has to run for his life for the rest of the afternoon until Cobb comes out to announce that lunch’s ready.

 

 

 

 **vi**.

 

 

It takes less than five tries for Arthur to figure out that something's different. Eames is beginning to think that Arthur won't, but Arthur _never_ not notices when he's up to no good. 

 

"Eames," Arthur says after Eames has pulled him in for a rather deep kiss in the middle of their stroll all of a sudden, something they rarely do, and by the looks on his boyfriend's face, Eames knows Arthur knows. "Why?"

 

See, Eames knows that it's a bad idea to try to disrupt Arthur's usual routine this frequently. He should've spread them all out, to make them less noticeable so that Arthur won't find out this quickly, and he will get this talk less sooner. 

 

But he can't help it - Eames doesn't have much resolutions left within him when it comes to Arthur. 

 

He likes how Arthur will furrow at his brows whenever he's confused. He likes the way Arthur will fidget as he tries to deal with unfamiliarity that hasn't proven to be displeasing. He likes to see how Arthur will slowly let himself relax into whatever that was happening, and enjoys it.

 

He thinks it's absolutely adorable whenever Arthur's uptight, but Eames thinks Arthur's lovely when he's not in control, and how he lets Eames takes the control in a discreet manner. 

 

"I don't have a good explanation," Eames answers as he pulls at Arthur's coat so that it's wrapping more of his boyfriend's body. What can he actually say without coming off as weird? "I just-"

 

He raises his eyebrows when Arthur brushes his hands away.

 

"You just what?" 

 

The expression on Arthur's face twists into a side Eames has never seen before, and maybe he should be happy he's learning more about his boyfriend, he isn't. 

 

Arthur looks hurt. 

 

"You just got bored of me, isn’t it?" Arthur suddenly accuses before Eames can even process anything. It's not like Arthur to look this vulnerable, all of a sudden, all at once. "Hence all the ways you're trying to spice things up or whatever— I'm, fuck, I'm sorry. I told you beforehand that I'm not the most interesting person ever already."

 

"… What? Arthur — wait, Arthur? Hey, wait up!"

 

It isn't hard to catch up to Arthur, Eames only has to make himself jog across the road that's caked with white snow to slip his hand beneath Arthur’s to steady a grip on his boyfriend but no, it is hard to make Arthur stay when he's bent on leaving. 

 

For every distance Eames narrows by pulling at the lapels of Arthur's coat, Arthur inches further away by shoving hardly at Eames' chest.

 

It's almost like a god damn tug-o-war that will never end, except it finally does, seconds later and it's only after he sees Arthur freeze midway in his actions with his eyes widened slightly that Eames realized he has been _talking_ , words Arthur should never hear him say so soon spewing out like a spilled bottle of milk.

 

Arthur stays still, and silent.

 

"What?" Eames doesn't allow silence to settle in between them. "I was just… saying,"

 

"Eames, ' _I love you_ ' isn't just saying, in this case."

 

"I don't know, I added a ' _dumbass_ ' at the end, didn't I?"

 

Arthur scoffs as he looks away, his posture fidgety like he's going to run away again. Eames let his fingers linger across the thick material of his boyfriend's coat in case, and doesn't let himself think of the three words which he accidentally let slip.

 

"Who's the dumbass now, really."

 

"It's certainly the one who assumed his boyfriend got bored of him,"

 

"It's not an assumption-"

 

"You have to be bloody insane to think that I'm getting sick of you, okay? Jesus, Arthur — I didn't go through life and death situations with you to part ways with you just because you are boring. Which you aren't, god. In fact, I don't think I'll ever get sick of being with you." 

 

Eames pauses, before he stops holding himself back for a second.

 

"Like I was just saying," He smiles when Arthur snorts at his choice of words. "I love you."

 

Arthur's cheek is cold beneath his touch as he raises a hand to caress at the smoothness, and Eames releases a breath of air he didn't know he was holding in all along when Arthur leans in, instead of pulling away.

 

Eames feels like his insides are melting, and stills his hand so he can drag the pad of his thumb across Arthur's cheekbone, while he waits for an answer. He doesn't know if he's getting any tonight, but at least Arthur's not leaving. 

 

Arthur presses a light kiss against his palm when he turns his head.

 

Eames didn't think he can fall any deeper for Arthur, but yes, yes. He does whenever Arthur showcases his tender side, and he does, further when Arthur steps in with his hands sliding out of his pocket to drag him in for a brief, but deep kiss.

 

Then, right at the end as they part, Eames hears it.

 

"Me too," Arthur says, quietly. "I love you."

 

 

 

 

 

(Eames takes back his words. This surprise, is his favorite.)

 

 

 

 **vii**. 

 

 

Eames' life is perfect, he thinks as he runs his fingers through the dark locks of Arthur's. Arthur is silent, most probably fast asleep, the back of his body pressed against Eames' chest to keep him warm from the winter that won't stop getting colder. 

 

Eames on the other hand, finds himself unable to sleep, even if it's so comfortable just by lying here with Arthur, sharing a thick blanket and with their legs bumping. 

 

It feels like everything fits, it feels perfect. As cheesy as it sounds, Eames doesn't want to miss out on anything from this very moment. 

 

"Eames?"

 

Arthur suddenly wakes (he has a feeling his boyfriend was never asleep in the first place) and twists at his position a little so they can look at each other. Arthur looks like he's been thinking.

 

"I'm sorry," Arthur rubs at his own face briefly. "You were right - I had been assuming. I just always thought there was an expiry date to us and when all these things started, I opted for the first reason that pops into my mind instead of trying to understand you. I-"

 

"An expiry date? For us? Arthur, what do you mean?"

 

The bed jerks as Arthur shifts to prop himself up with an elbow.

 

"I have been insecure, alright? This is the longest relationship that I have been in, so far and it just doesn't feel right - it doesn't feel like I'm going to get to keep us for this long. I have been… trying to prepare myself in case we go south, you know?" Arthur admits. "I have been telling myself all sorts of reasons that can cause us to split up so that when we do, I don't feel lost."

 

"Arthur, jesus, darling." Eames pushes himself to sit upright as disbelief spreads across his expression. "How long has this been going on for? Why — why didn't you tell me?"

 

He doesn't want to think about it, but his mind clicks and all he suddenly can see is Arthur trying to deal with all of his insecurities and troubles by himself. He sees Arthur waking up in the middle of the night for a mug of hot coffee, and stands in the balcony as he tries to pick the insecurities apart, alone.

 

Eames sighs quietly.

 

"I think a lot," Arthur lets his answer fall short and simple. "But that doesn't mean you have to."

 

 "You can always tell me, Arthur. You can talk to me — I'm here, you have me. I'm not just here for sex, and for anything that's temporary, jesus." Eames breathes. "I'm here to listen when you feel like you're carrying hundreds on your back. I'm here to understand you when you think no one else will. Hell, I'm even here to take your mug of coffee away when you're thinking of taking caffeine on an empty stomach. Arthur, darling, I'm here to _stay_."

 

Arthur doesn't seem like he's going to say anything, with his lips firmly pressed together, and his eyes focused on Eames' ones like he's trying to read a puzzle. He's not used to this, Eames thinks, as Arthur spends another minute just staring, with their fingers brushing. 

 

Arthur's not used to love; he's not used to affection and tenderness. 

 

"Okay," He finally says, breaking the silence once and for all as he tips his head downwards, with a soft smile that Eames didn't expect to see spreading across his lips. "You're here to stay."

 

"I'm here to stay, yes." 

 

Eames repeats before their lips meet again for the countless time that night. 

 

 

**viii.**

 

 

See, Eames knows something’s different now. It’s not just because of the fact that they exchanged ‘i love you’s for the very first time - but also the way Arthur seems to smile a lot more easier whenever Eames springs in the unexpected. 

 

So maybe Arthur doesn’t dislike surprises; he dislikes the doubts that come after it and now that everything’s out in the clear (Arthur smacked his head with a pillow after he explained), it looks like Arthur’s starting to welcome them.

 

_“Just from you, though.” Arthur explains sleepily. “If Yusuf tries to pull the same shit, Cobb’s going to help me bury a body.”_

 

Eames loves it, and lets the rush of joy take him too far the next evening, when he over-prepares for what’s supposed to be a simple dinner at Arthur’s favorite restaurant down the street.

 

“Jesus christ, fuck.” It seems like all Arthur seems to be able to do lately is to swear and stare lately. Eames has no objections to that, actually. “Eames, what even?”

 

Eames stops twirling his hands to the rhythm of the music that a band behind him is performing once he notices the other’s presence and stands with a hand outstretched to invite Arthur to step closer - which his boyfriend did, after an entire minute which Eames knew Arthur used to take in their surroundings.

 

Other than the service crew of the restaurant and the live band (that has a lovely singing voice, by the way), they are the only ones here for tonight. 

 

Eames doesn’t laugh, even if he really wants to just by the look that Arthur’s unknowingly giving out and makes his boyfriend take his seat at the table that’s carpeted with soft petals.

 

“I wasn’t planning on it - blame Saito, alright? The restaurant’s fully booked for tonight when I called, so I tried to pull some strings and guess what? I love Japan, that’s all I can say.” The smile on Eames’ face is immediate when Arthur can’t hold back an amused snort at his choice of words. “And since I have the entire venue to myself, I got slightly creative.”

 

“There’s candles and flowers everywhere, Eames. You even got us a live band? We are not even anywhere close to our anniversary.”

 

Eames wrinkles at his nose before he shrugs. 

 

“I got somewhat creative,” Eames corrects and Arthur doesn’t look half a bit impressed. “I— well, I admit. I thought this was a lovely chance to surprise you, since c’mon, this is going to be very special, don’t you think? You used to think it’s a shame that diners here are far too noisy here for you to enjoy the ambience here properly. Now you can?”

 

Arthur hums, as if Eames just delivered a strong and compelling statement before nodding his head, and gets ready for dinner by picking the folded napkin on the table apart to rest it across his laps.

 

“I swear,” Arthur deadpans after Eames affirmed with the restaurant’s manager that the food may be served. “It’s almost like you’re planning for a proposal.”

 

Eames pretends to give that idea a serious thought before making a loud sound of approval.

 

“Shut up,” Arthur immediately says even if he hasn’t said anything and grows flustered right there, in front of him when an amused smile breaks across Eames’ face. “Don’t you dare, I will slaughter you right here, right now.”

 

 

**ix.**

 

Turns out, Arthur’s threat is a pretty good motivator for pranks.

 

Eames spends the rest of the evening coming up with different ways to trick Arthur into thinking that he’s going to propose. The live band even performs ’ _Marry Me_ ’ at a point of time during their dinner and Eames swears, the service crew is really waiting to witness Eames pop the ring for real.

 

He’s on the other hand, just having the time of his life as he comes out with more and more absurd ways to surprise Arthur. 

 

Arthur just wants to send everyone into a limbo. 

 

(“ _Are you sure you didn’t taste anything weird in the cake, darling? Did you not feel something.. metallic? Oh dear lord, darling! Did you swallow it unknowingly?”_

 

 _“Do you want me to swallow a knife too, Eames? Because I will, right now.”_ ) 

 

“Jesus,” Arthur swears, even if it’s the _nth_ time Eames has tried to fake-propose and actually laughs this time round. Eames went down on a knee, and pretended to look at him with a serious look before swiping an imaginary dust off from his shoes. “Sleep with an eye open tonight, you spawn of satan.”

 

That very night, Eames is so very tempted to propose for real.

 

 

 

**x.**

 

 

“What?”

 

“What?” 

 

Eames echoes as he feigns oblivion to Arthur’s disapproving frown and just proceeds to place the cardboard box onto the coffee table, like everything’s perfectly fine.

 

He did not just randomly adopted three hungry, and shivering stray kittens he saw on the way home.

 

“Eames, I swear to god, say something before I—“

 

“Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Eames finally gears his mind into working out excuses that will enable him to survive this ordeal and _smiles_ , the way he remembers best that will sway Arthur in any occasions. Arthur folds his arms and proceeds to look even more unimpressed. “… Darling, I’m sorry—“

 

“Don’t ‘ _darling_ ’ me right now, Eames. You can’t just pass this off as some surprise and expect me to just take it, okay? It’s lives we’re talking about, time, dedication and commitment—“ Arthur rubs at his temples as he turns away briefly, to exhale a loud sigh before he faces Eames with a hand gestured to the cardboard box. “What if we don’t have time for them? What if we don’t know how to take care of them? What if Ms Carlton doesn’t allow pets in this building? What if you have to throw them back out there—“

 

“Grandma Carlton loves me, Arthur. And we all know, she has ninety-nine cats to— too soon for jokes?” Eames winces inwardly when Arthur just continues to stare at him with an expression that’s mixed with disbelief and frustration. “… I’m really sorry, Arthur. I know I should’ve discussed this with you first but they were constantly yowling at anyone who walked past them, as if begging for help and I know we decided on pets in the future so… I know it’s not dogs like we originally settled on, but hey? I’m sure they will be lovely.”

 

Eames sighs in relief when Arthur finally stops prancing around with annoyance and instead, sits in front of the cardboard box. That’s a good sign — unless Arthur’s thinking of feeding them before sending them out.

 

(Which he most probably won’t, Eames prays.)

 

“They were begging for help?” 

 

Arthur cringes, visibly at the mental image as he pries the box open and leans in to look inside the same time Eames does the exact. Three kittens that are cuddling, while asleep greeted their eyes and Eames smiled immediately, as he reaches out unknowingly to rub a thumb across them gently. As unpractical and untechnical Arthur may have thought of his decision, Eames thinks he would still bring them home if time ever swirls back.

 

“Eames,” Arthur begins, and Eames shakes his head.

 

“Arthur, I insist-“

 

“We have to-“

 

“I’m not sending them out there, Arthur!” Eames inhales sharply as he voices out his clear stand (screw it if he has to get into a fight with Arthur over this). He’s going to keep them— wait, what? Unlike how Eames initially intended, his determined, and ready for a fight stance that he hurriedly gathered falls, just as quickly when he spots the expression on his boyfriend’s face. “… What?”

 

Arthur’s amused. 

 

“You, my dear—“ Eames raises his eyebrows when Arthur cups both of his cheeks and tugs him close for a quick peck on the lips. “— are adorable.”

 

“A compliment?”

 

Arthur nods.

 

“You’re not cursing at me for my recklessness?”

 

Arthur shakes his head.

 

“… Who are you, and what have you done to my— fine, fine, I’m sorry! Where are you taking them — the bathroom? Are you seriously thinking of drowning them? Arthur, jesus, animal cruelty is the last thing that should happen in this entire universe-”

 

Eames scrambles to chase after Arthur who only chuckles before locking Eames out of the bathroom.

 

“Now if you will excuse me, I need to bathe these kittens clean of bacteria and dirt. You on the other hand, are hereby ordered to get some food and litter tray for them meanwhile. Capisce?” Arthur looks through the small gap when he opens the door a little to stop the other from picking the lock, and looks way too smug for his own good when realization sinks into Eames’ mind. “We can have your little lecture of what can happen in the universe and what can’t later on.”

 

“I love you, Arthur.”

 

Eames gets the door slammed at his face.

 

 

 

**xi.**

 

 

“Buttons, Cotton and Mutton,” Eames mumbles, before looking like he is finally going to drift off to dreamland for what seems to be the thousandth time and Arthur can only earnestly pray that this time, is for real. 

 

Eames has been trying to come up with all sorts of names for the kittens ever since they fed them, and Arthur’s just tired of face-palming to all of them so he just stays silent throughout as he plays with the grey kittens’ tiny paws. 

 

Turns out, Eames’ so called creativity when it comes to naming never runs out.

 

Not even as they are about to turn in, with the lights all switched off and the blankets all tucked perfectly to result in the most comfortable sleeping positions ever. Eames never sleep talks, but now he does, non-stop.

 

For these little guys, Arthur thinks as he looks to where they are — plastered against Eames’ chest for warmth and comfort. The sight of Eames hovering protectively over them is just too much of an adorable sight to stop taking in, Arthur figures as he makes himself stay awake just a little while more.

 

(If Arthur, the not-so animal lover, finally coos over them right here, right now — Eames doesn’t have to know, ever.)

 

“Chips, Dips and Hips,” Eames suddenly slurs and Arthur resists the urge to smother his boyfriend.

 

 

**xii.**

 

 

Here’s the thing: Arthur has seemed to settled on a peaceful pace in his life. His works are now all standardised planning — strictly research, and nothing more. His life with his boyfriend is stable, and even if there’s three more little kittens now running across the halls, he’s gotten used to them.

 

He’s passed the stage whereby he’s still fidgety over them, and constantly worries over if they are going to accidentally hurt themselves in a fatal way or chew out a wire that’s going to blow the entire apartment out.

 

Arthur thinks he isn’t against the idea of getting themselves more pets (he just have to decide their names faster)if everything goes this well for the next three— 

 

“Aloha, darling! You’re home early, aren’t you?” Eames tries to play it off all cool as Arthur stops dead in his tracks on his way into the kitchen. He needs caffeine for the information he’s required to submit by tonight — why is his coffee maker no longer in the same place it was? Why is _everything_ on the ground? “We were… waiting!”

 

He prays, and prays it isn’t his coffee maker that’s lying on the cold hard tiles, with a pile of what seems like a gooey, sticky failed dish but it is and Arthur thinks he needs to blow into a paper bag. 

 

“What on earth happened?” Arthur rubs at his temples, and doesn’t know why he asked that question when he probably doesn’t want to know the answer. A mess in the sight is enough, he doesn’t want a mess settling in his mind too. “Jesus, Eames.”

 

His boyfriend, pretending to be oblivious to his urge to choke something again, just lies comfortably in amidst of all the mess with the kittens squiggling across him like he’s a fun bridge to trample over. 

 

“Fun fact of the day, darling: three kittens have the strength to knock over a coffee maker if you place them on the kitchen counter.”

 

Arthur retracts the hand he’s about to offer to pull his boyfriend up right at that statement immediately, and slaps Eames on the arm with a scoff. 

 

 “You’re cleaning everything up, I swear to god. You know how I feel about mess and… what is this? What were you trying to do?” Arthur narrows his eyebrows when his fingers accidentally got into contact with something sticky. “… Is that corn salad? With doritos? Eames, what-“

 

“… Yes, yes! It’s Dorito, Corn and Salad— Arthur, darling, you’re a genius!”

 

Arthur raises his eyebrows and ponders briefly if he should hereby declare the other as sheer insane. 

 

“What?” Then realisation _hits_ , like a huge wave of horror. “ _What_? No, no you’re not going to name them—“

 

“How do you guys like your new name?” Eames declares with the exact same smile he had when Arthur first saw the kittens (which totally won him over, but he’ll never tell Eames) and by the looks of it, it seems like this time round, this smile has helped his boyfriend to win yet again. “Dorito, Corn and Salad—!”

 

 

 

**xiii.**

 

 

“Go, go go!” Eames urges his precious threes (he refers to them this way when he’s feeling lazy) out of the room once he hears the door unlocking. Arthur’s slightly later than he’s supposed to be, but a good Halloween scare isn’t going to be halted just because his boyfriend’s late. Furthermore, Arthur’s slowly becoming less strict with himself with the impossible rules he has set for himself and Eames thinks it’s adorable (so here’s a ‘ _reward_ ’). “He’s back—!”

 

He just hopes that Arthur’s still going to be adorable to him (instead of being all murderous and threatening) after the precious three scare the living lights out of him in spider costumes he got for them a week ago. 

 

Honestly, Eames choked on his coffee a few times when he forgot all about them being dressed like spiders as he waited for Arthur to be home and one of the kittens decided to jump on him.

 

“Jesus—!”

 

Eames snickers once he hears Arthur’s reaction— followed by a loud shriek?

 

Now that’s _new_ , Eames thinks to himself and quickly leaves the room to check if Arthur accidentally kicked any of the precious three in his frightened state (god, hopefully not) and stops at his steps, midway in the living room when he sees Arthur smiling, widely, as he plays with Salad who’s now seated comfortably in his laps.

 

Corn and Dorito, on the other hand, are just beside Arthur, looking at someone in the corner, with an expression that Eames thinks to be unimpressed (the kittens are spending too much time with Arthur).

 

“These are real cute, Eames. You got them these for Halloween? But we can’t bring them to Cobb’s, you know that right? They are too young for flights.” Arthur purses his lips slightly before he looks down at Salad which prompts yet another smile from him.

 

“Doesn’t seem like they are too young to scare the shit out of someone,” Ariadne grumbles and Eames immediately notices her then, plastered against the wall, with her back facing the kittens like they are some deadly creatures. “God, Arthur, this is not what I signed up for when I said I’ll baby-sit these babies for you!”

 

Arthur raises an accusing brow at Eames which he responds by shrugging nonchalantly. 

 

“You’re not afraid of jumping off a tall building, but here you are, afraid of this?” 

 

“These are _spiders_ , Eames and may I remind you just how many people in this world are afraid of them? Even—“

 

“Fine, fine. I’m taking them off,” Arthur ignores Eames’ protests as he peels the hood off from Salad’s head and pushes his knuckles against Eames’ temple in a way that’s way too adoring to be true. Eames doesn’t even think of how his plan to frighten Arthur has failed, he just thinks of how freaking lovable his boyfriend truly is at the moment. “Ariadne, you have the permission to force Eames to finish one huge glass of tomato milkshake before he and I head off to the airport. Game?”

 

Or not anymore, Eames decides as his eyebrows raise in immediate horror.

 

“They, are _disgusting_ — no, Ariadne, you are banned from my kitchen! There are spiders, let me tell you, lots of them in there I _rear_ spiders for a living—“

 

 

 

 

(At least Arthur kisses him to make him feel better, midway to where the airport is as he drives. Arthur used to never do that. He does now, and Eames thinks it’s almost worth the tomato milkshake.)

 

 

 

**xiv.**

 

 

“Do you think Ariadne will scared, again if she sees us like this?” Eames asks with an amused smile as he looks at his own reflection in the rear mirror. Cobb’s kids haven’t been exactly forgiving when they made the mistake of telling them that they aren’t going to dress up for trick or treat (hell, Cobb has actually dressed up as mad hatter). “I will shield you from all the photos she’s going to take, promise.”

 

“What about the passengers on the airplane? We aren’t exactly dressed like the daily civilians, you know.”

 

They ended up buying whatever costumes that fit them in the nearest shop they could find to put smiles back onto the kids’ faces — Cobb’s kids ended up loving their outfits a little too much and dragged them everywhere in their quest to get the most candies ever, despite Cobb’s protests and now here they are, speeding for their flight, still stuck in their costumes. 

 

“They will most probably love me, I think.” Arthur shrugs smugly in a way that’s intentional. “Everyone digs Robin. I’m not so sure about you though, Bane. You will have a tough time passing the customs.”

 

Eames snorts as he touches the mask that he still has on right now, before he tries to pry it off his face. It had been uncomfortable at first, but he forgot all about it through all the tight schedule they have been rushing to meet.

 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Arthur raises an eyebrow as he takes his eyes off the road briefly to look at him. 

 

“Taking it off before it melts into my face?” Eames answers, as a matter of fact before he struggles to loosen the belt that’s digging into the back of his head. 

 

“But you look good in this-”

 

“I’m all for new things, darling, but wearing this mask while we’re going to take a flight? I mean, people sure will be understanding that this is Halloween, but jesus, not this— wait, what are you doing, Arthur?”

 

Eames holds onto the grab handle when Arthur suddenly swirls the car to a left sharply, the exact opposite of where they are really supposed to go and raises his eyebrows when the car jams to a stop at a road that’s remotely quiet. 

 

“Am I going to get slaughtered? Are you going to kill me and dump my body right here which wait, let’s see— yes, it’s pretty convenient.” Eames deadpans.  

 

Eames only has a second to absorb the sight of Arthur laughing, amused before his boyfriend unbuckles his seatbelt and shifts himself in one smooth movement —the next second, all Eames feel is the weight pressing down on his thighs as Arthur sits on him while levelling the seat they are currently both in, flat down.

 

“I said you look good in this,” Arthur emphasizes after silence has settled down for a long minute and runs a thumb across the hard material of the mask before Eames catches the look in his boyfriend eyes and forgets to breathe for a whole five seconds. 

 

“Still up for new things, darling?” 

 

The instant Arthur rolls his hard-on against Eames, with a quiet grunt as his arm pressed against the car’s ceiling for support, Eames knows they aren’t leaving anytime soon.

 

Fuck their flight, they have Saito.

 

 

 

**xv.**

 

 

“Is this your way of surprising me?” Arthur’s steps were quick, as he makes his way to where the living room is — Eames, Eames has been expecting this, _really_ and have run through all the lines he’s going to respond to Arthur to make himself look smug and the winner of all worlds, but everything goes down into the drain as soon as Eames cracks up in laughter. “… This is funny to you?”

 

“You, having a flour facial?” Eames grins as he takes in the sight of Arthur’s face that’s caked with flour. “Hell yeah.”

 

“And rather proud of it, aren’t you?” Arthur narrows his eyes before flinging the hairdryer that Eames has previously loaded with white sprinkles onto his laps before scuttling into where the kitchen is. 

 

The precious three just sat beside Eames and watched, with sheer oblivion that makes Eames want to pepper them with pecks. They are still so cute to Eames even after three months, and every time he sees them, he still melts. It’s almost like the case for him and Arthur—

 

“What is that, darling?” Eames asks, warily when Arthur returns with a bowl of substance that looks dangerously sticky.

 

“Nothing, just something I heard from Ariadne that’s good for the skin. You know, egg whites and flour mixed together do make a good skincare product—“

 

Arthur doesn’t wait until he finishes his sentence before slathering what smells like death all over his face, and neck. Eames immediately retaliates, without thinking by overturning the bowl so that everything is emptied onto them — mostly Arthur, in this case, but the former point man is swift when it comes to throwing all he can reach at Eames’ face. 

 

This is a losing war he has initiated, Eames thinks as Arthur tackles him to the floor where the carpet is soiled, and on normal days Arthur would’ve winced at the sight of it and instantly do something about it, but on this special day, they continue to have their own food fight as the kittens try to join.

 

“Don’t eat that, Corn! Jesus!”

 

“How about you eat it, then—“

 

“Arthur— what even,” Eames thinks his face can’t get anymore twisted as he cringes at the stench of raw eggs and the unflattering texture of this whole ‘skincare’ product Arthur has made. “You will pay for this!”

 

Arthur only shrugs smugly in response, and Eames doesn’t waste a single second more as he races Arthur to the kitchen for more ‘weapons’.

 

 

 

**xvi.**

 

 

Eames ends up losing the fight, terribly as Arthur’s a king of dirty tricks, fun fact of the day, together with Corn’s new developed love for weird food.

 

“You do remember that we are two grown men in our thirties, right?” Eames mutters with an amused smile as Arthur tries to wipe Dorito clean with a wet tissue he keeps shying away from. “And we just had a food fight— that’s not initiated by any kids.”

 

“You do remember it’s you who said we should be more open to new things, so to gain new experiences, right?” Arthur rebukes before flinging the used tissue at his face. 

 

Eames raises his eyebrows.

 

“Does that mean you’re embracing the idea?”

 

“Have I not been?” Arthur gives him a look as he takes Salad into his hands, deciding that the little one is next to be squeaky clean. “You always wanted me to be less uptight, don’t you?”

 

“Arthur,” Eames begins, as he shifts from where he was to sit beside his boyfriend. “I hope you understand this is not me trying to change you, because I—“

 

Eames stops when Arthur leans to press a quick kiss against his lips.

 

“I know,” Arthur says.

 

 

 

**xvii.**

 

 

“Surprises and evil, dead evil pranks are different, may I remind you, Mr Eames?” Arthur groans loudly once he swings the door open, and visibly winces at everything he’s tasting at the moment.

 

“Surprises and pranks differ just by one thin line, darling.”

 

“And you just trampled all over it,” Arthur grunts as he quickly turns back to the sink to rinse at his mouth before he takes his toothbrush that’s still slathered with mayonnaise and points it accusingly at Eames. “Replacing my toothpaste with mayonnaise? Very elementary school, Eames—“

 

Eames just continues to lie on his bed like nothing that’s going on in the world concerns him at the moment, and snuggles close to the smooth sheets Arthur hand-picked last week.

 

Oh, well. 

 

Arthur throws his toothbrush into the sink, before taking a quick glimpse across the bed to see if any of the kittens are still rolling beneath the sheets — none, thankfully — before he pounces on Eames when the other’s about to stretch, and grins in accomplishment and he earns asurprised yelp.

 

“What—?”

 

“You’re just so god damn attractive, darling—“ Arthur makes his motives clear as the day sky as he exhales his breath that smells like a dead carcass against Eames’ face which he’s holding with the both of his hands forcefully. “— it makes me unable to resist the urge to kiss you.”

 

Eames doesn’t even have enough time to start blabbering his way out of this as Arthur kisses his boyfriend on the lips fully, and begins to laugh when he senses the other’s struggle.

 

“Why do I love you, again?” Eames groans inwardly as he tries to get out of the bed to brush his teeth, but is unfortunately stopped by a relentless Arthur who’s still being a little shithead by peppering his entire face with wet, smacking kisses. “God, Arthur, I’ll appreciate this in all occasions, just not this—“

 

“Who says you get to choose?” Arthur snorts before dipping in for another kiss that’s deeper than Eames has expected, and good gracious, it’d have been perfect if not for the stench of mayonnaise that kills any boner Eames can get.

 

 

 

**xix.**

 

 

“My kids over? No thanks,” Cobb says, so immediately it makes Eames laugh. “Ariadne told me what happened the last few times she has been there. Spider kittens, though, Eames. Really? And what’s with the fake insects in the slippers? Are you guys trying to kill her?”

 

“In my defense, I was trying to trick Arthur all the time— Ariadne is just an unfortunate girl in an unfortunate situation, you see.” Eames defends himself immediately with an amused smile that Ariadne will definitely smack away with a rolled up newspaper if she’s right here as he searches for where the container with the sugar’s in. “Your kids will be good in hands, hey! I promise I’ll stop the pranking when they are over — I mean, didn’t you say you wanted to show them around to more places and…. oh, shit.”

 

“Eames?”

 

“Nothing, Cobb, nothing. Like I was just saying, just keep this offer in mind. Arthur will love it, you know that.” Eames adds on quickly as he smiles to himself, and picks off the post-it note that’s been stuck onto his favorite mug which has ‘ _off to Ariadne’s to help her with something. i will not miss you_ ’ written on it. 

 

“I will, alright? In fact, I think Phillipa misses her Uncle Arthur already,” 

 

“Uncle Arthur? What about Uncle Eames—“

 

Cobb laughs, and only laughs before he hangs up the call with a haste ’ _take care_ , _Eames_ ’, leaving him to stare at his phone with a small frown, and a sudden urge to find out a million ways to win children’s hearts over till he sees a new board he never knew existed in his home, pinned next to where they usually have drinks at.

 

Eames’ smile is immediate when he sees what Arthur has done. 

 

Just a few weeks ago, Eames started the habit of leaving Arthur random post-it notes everywhere ever since Arthur used one to inform him that they were out of milk. Eames had merely been joking when he pasted a ‘ _love me more yet? i got us more milk’_ onto the new carton of milk — he didn’t expect that Arthur would be replying to his senseless words the next day through the same way, and Eames, let’s just say that Eames get inspired by almost _everything_.

 

Arthur actually kept all the notes Eames left for him, and has now stuck them across this new board he has gotten them. 

 

Eames’ heart feels so, _so_ much warmer as he lets the latest note his boyfriend has left for him joins the board and misses Arthur already.

 

 

**xx.**

 

 

“No gun this time?”

 

“No gun this time,” Arthur looks way too proud when he declares it, a hand tapping against the empty soap-holder before he inches back against the wet tiles with an inviting hand outstretched.

 

Eames doesn’t know how his boyfriend succeeds in being both utterly adoring and sexy at the same time, but he’ll take it.

 

It’s not like he has anything he can complain about, anyway, as he proceeds to go onto his knees to leave a trail of kisses all the way from Arthur’s knees to his inner thighs, and watches how his boyfriend arches off the wall in anticipation whenever he wanders close enough.

 

“Fuck,” Arthurs’s voice drops lower than before as he struggles to keep his leg over Eames’ shoulder.

 

“You like this now,” Eames realizes, and lets his finger which he was working within the other slip off as he tilts his head up to look at Arthur with his eyebrows raised. 

 

He remembers what happened in the car, last Halloween when Arthur decided to stop driving and straddled him on his seat instead. He remembers the afternoon when it was Arthur’s turn to barge in when Eames was showering. He remembers Ariadne’s birthday dinner that they were late to because Arthur suddenly found an interest in pushing Eames against the kitchen counter before dropping to his knees— 

 

“Jesus,” Eames concludes, and doesn’t even try to hide the amused expression on his face.

 

“Are you going to keep going, or are you going to keep talking? Because you know,” Arthur nudges his head in the direction of where their hamper is, where piles of used towels and clothes are. “There’s still a gun here.”

 

Eames snorts. 

 

“I knew it,”

 

 

**xxi.**

 

 

Eames picks up Arthur after he’s done with work and takes them on an impromptu road trip, yet again — and this time, Arthur doesn’t look alarmed anymore. He just rests back against his seat, catches some sleep, looks outside the window to look at anything that will momentarily interests him and listens to the music that’s playing softly.

 

He just goes with it when the car’s parked next to a beach, and lies beside Eames when the other finds a comfortable spot on the soft sands after taking a bottled drink with him that they are sharing now.

 

“So, how do you think about this place?” Eames asks as he caps the bottle that Arthur’s done drinking before letting it rest in between them. “Much better than the woods I brought us to last week?”

 

Arthur snorts. 

 

“I swear, Dorito looks offended when we came home and smelled dogs all over us.”

 

“You mean dog poops?” Eames raises an eyebrow before he laughs at the memory — it had been a long walk in the woods, which was supposed to be therapeutic (he just wants Arthur to relax whenever a job’s done) but nothing about that walk was soothing. Dogs’ wastes were scattered all over the ground and Arthur swore that particular woods was where people buried bodies at if they committed murder (before stepping onto a huge pile of warm invitation). “But you know, it was fun, wasn’t it? Together with all those—”

 

Eames stops when Arthur inhales slightly with his lips pinched slightly. Now that can’t be a good sign; Arthur dipping into his serious-thinking phase in the middle of a date (Arthur still likes to refer to these as outings, but a man sure can dream.)

 

“I’m sorry, I just got reminded of what I have been wanting to talk to you about for the longest time ever,” Arthur waves his hand a little as a corner of his lips lift for a slight smile when their eyes meet.

 

“Should I be worried?” Eames asks, suddenly unsure even if he’s pretty sure he hasn’t left any dirty dishes in the sink after getting nagged for what seems to be like the hundredth time. 

 

Arthur shakes his head, before he smiles, in such a soft way Eames begins to hold his breath, and says, “Thank you.”

 

“What? You don’t have to—“

 

“No Eames, let me. I have been thinking, you know? All the things you have done for me, every little ones. I… appreciate them, I really do.” Arthur begins, looking hesitant but not unsure. “You, well. You make me happy, and just… you gave me a home, you know? I used to love work, still do, actually but I never want to spend a second more on it unless it’s necessary because I just want to devote it to my home… wait, does it make sense? There’s a reason why I don’t do this very often, you know I—“

 

The thing is, Arthur has never been an expressive person when it comes to his own emotions. Eames knows that, he always have, and right now with their hands joined together, he lets Arthur knows that _yes, this is more than enough, you don’t have to say anything more_ — he squeezes Arthur’s hand, tightly before leaning in to press their lips together chastely. 

 

“I know,” Eames smiles slightly. “I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

**xxii.**

 

 

 

The house’s in a state of war, like what Cobb has said. 

 

Eames has swapped all the sugar with salt, just so he can watch Arthur’s expression _twist_ when he takes his first mouthful of tea or coffee. 

 

Turns out initiating a war with Arthur really is a bad thing, Eames realizes through the hard way, as he always forget to check the ice cubes before adding them into his drinks. They are vinegar cubes instead.

 

“Remember when I said surprises and pranks differ just by one single line?” Eames makes a face as he finds out where the real carton of milk is (not the one that has mayonnaise and salt mixed in it), and looks through the cabinets to see if there’s anything he can whip up a quick breakfast with for the both of them. “How about we thicken the line and push them far, far apart?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why? You’re seriously asking that—“ Eames frowns and looks out of the kitchen, to where Arthur’s lounging on the couch with the precious three spread out evenly on his torso lazily. “— what if Salad ate some of these.. disasters accidentally?”

 

Arthur peeks down at Salad who meows innocently at him in response.

 

“Nah, Salad’s a smart girl.”

 

Eames would’ve rolled his eyes if not for the bunch of bananas he sees that has a green post-it note stuck on it. _‘This is safe, in case you starve to death. Eat well,_ ’ Eames reads silently to himself before he smiles and picks one out to peel and eat immediately— 

 

He tastes death.

 

“ _Arthur_!”

 

The bananas are injected with alcohol yet _again_. 

 

 

 

(Pleasure’s short lasting, Eames concludes bitterly.)

 

 

 

**xviii.**

 

 

Whenever Cobb spoke to him about the future years ago, Arthur never quite seemed to be able to visualize himself like this. He did not see himself settling down with someone for this long, never saw himself with Eames on top of everything and never saw himself keeping three little kittens he has grown to love so much.

 

He never saw himself to be this happy.

 

“The sun hasn’t even risen yet, Arthur — go back to sleep,” Eames mumbles sleepily as he drapes his arm sloppily across his waist and tries to coax him back to sleep. It’s usually effective, the way Eames’ warmth will wrap around him that’s too comforting to fight, but Arthur can’t. 

 

It’s not like he’s too troubled to sleep, in the past few years he only had issues going to sleep when a particular work’s too tacky.

 

Tonight, Arthur finds himself unable to go to sleep because he’s… too _happy_. 

 

“A little while more,” He whispers as he lets his thumb caress the side of Eames’ face gently, and smiles when the other reaches up to lace their hands together. Arthur would’ve chided the other for being this sappy, but he doesn’t. 

 

He lets himself drink in the sight of their hands, for long seconds before he looks towards where a new board is pinned onto the wall opposite of their bed just hours ago, with only one post-it note in pink stuck onto it. 

 

_‘Marry me?’_

 

Arthur smiles, and _smiles_ , before he kisses the bands that wrapped around their fourth fingers and sleeps.

 

 

 

 

 

(A blue note joins Eames’ note the next day on the new board, fresh ink trailing across the thin paper that reads ‘ _Yes, I do_ ’.)

 

 

 


End file.
